Life,
a thing so endlessly unknown,
for we all tend to die.
Love,
a thing overwhelmingly cruel,
for we all seem to cry.
Time,
a thing forever untameable,
for we all lose sight of it.
Hearts,
things far too uncaring,
for we all come to covet.
Peace,
a thing never yet to exist,
for we tend to stay at war.
Death,
a thing to never understand,
any better than we did before.
9-21-89 Written by Gail Brookshire
(by the grace of God)